


The Past, The Present, The Future

by MamaKusanagi



Series: Projecting my experiences and feelings onto Azumane Asahi [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Based on a True Story, Character Study, Happy Mother's Day, M/M, So much angst, also the writing style is weird but I'm trying something new, don't hate me, get the tissues, it's sad people, we all love Asahi suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaKusanagi/pseuds/MamaKusanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What could he be doing besides spending time here, with us, and with his family?"</p>
<p>Sugawara smiles sadly, laying a hand on Nishinoya's shoulder, his fingertips calloused from setting and clenching on Nishinoya's shirt, as he thinks about the night that they will have. The tears will spill, the words will blur, the hands will shake, the body will tense and ache, the glass heart will break as it has broken in the past eight years.</p>
<p>"He's spending time with his mother, of course."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Past, The Present, The Future

**Author's Note:**

> I like projecting my feelings onto characters, it helps me cope and gets it off of my chest. After I write about it I feel lighter, and the problem isn't so bad anymore. I've had a lot of stresses pile up lately, so I started this in an effort to help keep myself calm. Unbeta'd, because I wanted to post it tonight, so bear with me until I get a chance to edit it hopefully tomorrow or Tuesday.
> 
> ((As for TSoF, it will update within the next week, but for now, enjoy my rambles about Haikyuu's long-haired gentle giant cutie.))
> 
> *plays with past, present, future tense for emphasis and dramatics*

The banner hanging in the gym is white with bright pink lettering, and everything has a pink theme to it. Pink balloons, pink frosting on cupcakes, strawberries and flowers and napkins. Gold and white accompanies the assault of pink, adding just the right amount of class and elegance for the occasion. Seemingly random names cover the banner, almost drowning out the words "Happy Mother's Day!". Each name is hand written with multiple colors of ink, along with a few smudges and hand prints. Karasuno's freak duo, as it turns out, is banned from getting to use anything other than a sharpie in punishment for the mess they'd made when they broke out in a fight in the middle of decorating. Tsukishima, as it turns out, has perfect cursive writing and holds it over the duo's heads like the volleyball when they had met.

Sugawara, as it turns out, only has so much patience when dealing with the party planning. When they get him a bouquet of pink azaleas, however, he takes it with a smile and a chilling reminder not to call him "Sugamama" again or he'll take away their cupcake privileges. Daichi will make it up to him later when they will share a bed, and he will tell him that he is the best "Sugamama" they could ask for, and he will get kicked out of the bed for the comment.

Ukai has his hands full, a snickering Takeda behind him, when a few single mothers flock to him. Nishinoya, Yamaguchi, and Narita look particularly horrified/freaked out at even the thought of Coach Ukai dating their mothers and becoming their step father. They'll turn to Takeda when he makes a quip about Ukai's "way with the children", and it will be Ukai's turn to smirk when they start flirting with a suddenly flustered, suddenly blushing Takeda.

Hinata runs to grab another cupcake for his sister, Kageyama awkwardly follows him with no one to show up at this party for the team's families, Yamaguchi makes pleasant conversation with many adults and many adults find that they enjoy his company and demand their sons spend more time with him, Tanaka is laughing uproariously with Saeko and an equally loud, much older woman bearing striking resemblance to the both of them with a tattoo of a dragon winding up her exposed forearm. Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita have gathered together with the two former's mothers to talk pleasantly and familiarly with one another. Sugawara and Daichi are with their own mothers, making plans for a study session at Daichi and a sleepover for the weekend, when Nishinoya comes up to them with a curious look. His mother, Narita's, and Yamaguchi's are still with Ukai and Takeda with mischievous looks on their faces, so their sons have been braving the party by themselves for most of the time.

"Yes, Nishinoya?" Daichi asks when Nishinoya looks like he's waiting to be noticed, and the boy springs to life under the attention.

"Where's Asahi-san?"

The question gathers the attention of nearby groups, most mothers and fathers and even siblings with a shared questioning look- they'd heard of the ace, but hadn't realized he wasn't present until it was mentioned.

Sugawara and Daichi look at each other, as well as at their parents standing behind them. They had offered this place as a sanctuary for Asahi today, and even made plans with him later tonight for the same study session and sleepover they had just been discussing, but the ace had declined politely and agreed to catch up with them later tonight with a lot of prodding. He would text them no later than five in the afternoon, would meet them at Daichi's no later than 5:30 in his father's awful, beaten down pickup truck, they would force a meal down his throat, and cuddle with him on the bed until Daichi gets kicked out and Asahi is smiling again.

"He couldn't make it," Daichi finally says, tilting his head. "He already had plans."

"Asahi-san didn't say anything about plans." Nishinoya's brows furrow, his eyes narrowed and intense, but not angry. "I thought everyone was on board with this party, that's why we planned it and had it and stuff." Everyone had shown up, had agreed, had helped decorate. All but one, now that everyone starts thinking about it. "What could he be doing besides spending time here, with us, and with his family?"

Sugawara smiles sadly, laying a hand on Nishinoya's shoulder, his fingertips calloused from setting and clenching on Nishinoya's shirt, as he thinks about the night that they will have. The tears will spill, the words will blur, the hands will shake, the body will tense and ache, the glass heart will break as it has broken in the past eight years.

"He's spending time with his mother, of course."

 

* * *

 

Tears are spilling, words are blurring, hands are shaking, body is tensing and aching, glass heart is breaking and breaking and breaking as it has broken in the past eight years.

"And then he gets this intense look in his eyes like he's going to fight someone, and we bump into each other and it's gone, but I swear, mom, it was so scary and intimidating even though he's so much smaller than me-"

Grammatically, it doesn't make sense, but it is being said anyway. Sentences run, words merge and slur, but nothing stops him from speaking. Nothing, no one, is around to stop him.

Asahi is on his knees, hands folded in his lap, on dusty brown dirt. Bugs crawl by, but for once he pays them no mind, and instead he keeps his eyes forward. His hair is not pulled up, and is hanging down his shoulders in loose waves and slight tangles. Sweat lines his brow. It is hot, and he had been doing physical work for a while before finally resting. Around him, grass is growing to almost his height, and he is reminded that he is the only one that cares to cut it, and he has not had the time between volleyball and school. He regrets it now, and makes a mental note to come next week to do some maintenance.

There is no gravestone in front of him. He has not yet saved up the money to buy one, but he is close. The one he has picked out is modest and beautiful, just like the woman it will represent.

Instead, there is a tin nameplate, with two dates and a name engraved with black ink that is fading. It is a grave marker, the only thing to show someone is buried there other than the ground sinking in unnaturally in the shape of a coffin.

Asahi had known that the grave had started to sink, so he had brought dirt with him in buckets and had refilled the sunken ground. Grass had never grown on the grave, so he did not bring any to put over the dirt. The grass growing high on some other graves and between them resembles hay more than grass. A few other graves are sinking from neglect, and Asahi is reminded yet again that he is the only one that cares enough to do anything about it.

He is still talking.

"- this new setter, he's got a scary face but I think he's just misunderstood, you know? If you were here, you could tell me, you were always good at knowing things like that, you always knew when I was upset, I think you could help Kageyama a lot-"

Asahi is a quiet person, usually not speaking unless spoken to, only nice things to say when he does speak, will keep his voice gentle so he will not scare anyone, only raising his voice to shout in triumph or exertion on the court. He does not do well on speeches in class, does not like holding attention or talking for too long, but he cannot seem to stop talking.

They have a lot of catching up to do, because he has not been here in about a year, and he has not seen her in eight years, but he has talked to her for all of them.

She has not, is not, and will not be saying anything in return. Nor will she see him, either.

"- they're really good, and they keep improving everyday, wanting to be in a starting position even though we have so many first years taking the spotlight, they're not giving in, and I know you would like that about them, how they don't give up, how they're gonna keep trying until they get what they want-"

The tears are flowing faster than his words now, even though he does not think that is possible. Asahi can't keep the quiver out of his voice, can't control his trembling hands or lips, can't feel his legs from how long he has been sitting, can't ignore the ache in his throat by how much he has talked. His mind is buzzing, his ears ringing, and he wonders vaguely if it has always been this way.

Has he always felt like this when he comes here, at any point in the year? The Anniversary, The Estimated Anniversary, Mother's Day, birthday. Is it all the same? Does he do this every time? He doesn't recall. He doesn't even remember the first time coming here.

He doesn't even remember warm hands, kind words, soft embraces, gentle voice.

He doesn't even remember the last time he saw his mother alive.

"- you'd love them, I know I've said this about all my teammates, but they're my best friends and they take care of me, like, like you do- did, like you did, but like you would do if you were here, and they make me happy and make me feel safe even though they can both be scary-"

His mother still does not reply in the present, his mother has not replied in the past, and she will never reply in the future.

Her beauty was ethereal, with chocolate brown hair in long curls, her big eyes always squinting with laughter, her mouth quirking as she cackled, her nose scrunching and turning red. Her thin shoulders shook, her back hunching with giggles, her long legs bending slightly into a more comfortable position, her feet flat on the ground to keep balanced. She played with her hair as she worked, always pulled it away from her eyes in beautiful styles. She didn't have the chance to develop laugh lines on her smooth skin. She did not have a gray hair on her head.

Did, was. She was forever trapped in past tense.

"......."

He has run out of words, as he had feared he would. There is only silence in response, no melodic voice to coo at how much he has grown, how strong he is, how he is almost a man now, how he has such interesting friends, how she supports him and his decisions and his team, how she accepts him and his feelings, how she will never judge him.

She has no voice, she will never have a voice ever again. Someone took it, and it will not be returned, because it cannot be returned.

Asahi's tears are spilling, words are stopping, hands are shaking, body is tensing and aching, glass heart is breaking and breaking and breaking as it has broken in the past eight years, and there is no one that will wipe the tears, that will hush the words, that will hold his hands and will wrap around his body soothingly and will pick up the pieces of his broken, broken glass heart.

Until there is.

He has not said what he wants to yet, but he hears a car pulling in and tenses even further. No one knows where this is except his family, and they're either dead or they do not care enough to come by, and he almost thinks it is someone who made a wrong turn until he recognizes the car engine of Daichi's deep blue Honda Civic. The care engine cuts off, but no doors open. They are giving him time, and for that, he is grateful.

"I brought you daisies," he says again, having said it earlier when he had planted them. A bouquet is fake and unattractive in its fakeness, but surrounding the edges of a grave is a thick row of real daisies that he has just planted. "They're from your old garden. They keep growing, every year. I try to take care of them, like you taught me."

His voice is quiet, and still quivering.

"I miss you. I miss you a lot. And I.. I love you, mom."

She does not say it back, and she will never say it back, because she cannot.

There is a moment of silence as he bows his head, but it is less stifling now that he has said everything. Car doors open and shut, and gravels crunch under approaching feet. A hand is laid on his shoulder, fingertips calloused from setting and clenching on Asahi's shirt.

"We got worried when you didn't text," Sugawara says softly, but at a different pitch. Just different.

"I lost track of time," he whispers, still looking at the tin nameplate. He needs to buy a rock. The rock is expensive, and he is struggling.

"You don't need to defend yourself," Daichi says sternly. "But you _do_  need to get out of this dirt."

There is a hand in front of his face, tan and big and soft looking. Asahi looks up at Daichi's face, tense with worry but hidden with sternness, at Sugawara's face, concerned with a smile and a look of reassurance.

And he needs it. He needs them both, with Daichi's firm and steady commands, with Sugawara's easy smile and mischievous eyes. He needs a soft touch, a firm push, a stubborn pair to make him step out of his comfort zone and make it a safe environment to do so.

Asahi accepts the hand, letting Daichi pull him up effortlessly. He immediately falls, his legs numb, but Sugawara has his arms wound around his waist and Daichi has his hand on his lower back and his arm around his shoulders and pulls Asahi back against his chest, and they catch him before he can fall and break, break.

"You've sat here for too long," Sugawara tells him. "You've been here for hours."

Asahi does not ask him how he knows that, does not question why he himself did not know that, and will not mention that can't remember ever telling them that he would be going to the grave or at what time he would be here. Daichi lowers to his knees, Asahi's upper half in his lap, and Sugawara wraps his toned arms around Asahi tighter than before, pressing his forehead to Asahi's. Daichi's face is buried in his tangled hair, his hand rubbing Asahi's back to get him to relax, and he does. The scent of daisies hits him and he begins to cry again, but there is someone to wipe the tears, to hush the words- "I miss her, I missed her, I will always miss her-". There is someone to hold his hands and wrap around his body soothingly, and there is two someones to pick up the pieces of his broken, broken glass heart.

Asahi started his day sadly, is pouring out his sadness now, and will return to Daichi's house so Sugawara and Daichi will refill him with their love and kindness so he is not, was not, and will never be hollow.

And Asahi thinks to himself, as they guide him to the car, as they lead him to a bath, as they set out clean clothes for him, and force a meal down his throat, and cuddle with him on the bed until Daichi gets kicked out and he is smiling again. He thinks to himself as Daichi crawls back into bed, brings a hand to his cheek when he thinks he's sleeping and brushes his damp hair out of his face, as Sugawara wraps an arm around Asahi's waist and presses against his back, and murmurs a goodnight to the traitor and to the ace. He thinks to himself as he listens to their breathing evening out, the clock ticking steadily on the wall across the room, the soft sound of sheets rustling as Sugawara restlessly kicks his legs even though his face is peaceful and relaxed, the snores of Daichi deep and breathy as his breath brushes along Asahi's neck and collarbones.

He thinks to himself, and decides that it is sad that his mother is in the past tense, but he also has the present tense. He has this moment now, with these two, and the comforting warmth, and the soft snores and sharp kicks, and the arms around him, and the understanding they share with him. He will have the future, with these two always by his side, and while he will not have his mother, he thinks to himself.

It's enough.

_And it always will be._

**Author's Note:**

> My mom loved daisies.


End file.
